


Choices

by hgthp348



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgthp348/pseuds/hgthp348
Summary: The rebellion never started. While people were disgruntled by the outcome of the 74th Hunger Games, District Thirteen had actually been completely destroyed in the first rebellion, so there was no way to plan a second one. People are generally unhappy, but the world moves on and now it's time for the first Hunger Games in which Katniss and Peeta will be mentors.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen/Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. Lovers

I scrutinize my reflection critically after the prep team leaves, frowning at the flecks of glitter surrounding my eyes and the feathers pinned into my hair. For so many years, I'd judged former victors of the Hunger Games for allowing their personal style to be so influenced by the Capitol, particularly if they were from one of the outer districts. Only now do I realize it may not have been their choice.

At least it's cold enough outside that they only bothered with my face. The rest of me is covered with a woolen coat, mittens, and boots. Others in District Twelve are upset by the lingering chill, but I am grateful.

A Peacekeeper appears in the doorway to usher me to the stage for the reaping. I follow him wordlessly, trying not to think of the slaughter in which I am now complicit. At least I don't have to worry about my sister Prim being reaped.

It was three months ago that the Quarter Quell was announced. Since this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the rebellion, this year's Games will be special. They've had all sorts of twists over the years – the first Quarter Quell required District residents to vote on which children would become tributes, the second took twice as many tributes as normal. I'd been sitting in front of the television in my house with my mother and sister when I learned about this year's twist. It made me sick to my stomach.

President Snow appeared on the television, smiling proudly, no doubt excited about the devastation he was about to deliver.

"As a reminder that the Districts made the choice to rebel, all tributes will be volunteers. If two volunteers do not come forward, then children will be reaped until they do."

I'd instructed Prim that she was not to volunteer, no matter what. I knew her name wouldn't be in the bowl – Haymitch, my mentor during my Games and a former victor – had promised me that. If Prim died, the Capitol would no longer have leverage over me, and that's the last thing they would want. I didn't mind being a puppet to protect Prim. And as far as I was concerned, they could reap the whole District as long as she remained safe.

I'd spent the last three months speculating on who District Twelve's volunteers would be. No one would want to, but someone would have to make the sacrifice. Parents and children alike approached me whenever I was in town to ask me about my experience in the Games. I stopped going to the market after that, sending Prim or my mother to run the errands. Today is my first time to the square in weeks.

We arrive at the stage, and the Peacekeeper holds open a door for me to enter from the back. I climb the steps, squinting into the sunlight, and see him.

Peeta Mellark.

Our eyes meet and I immediately look away.

Peeta participated in last years' Games, just like me. Normally, there's only one victor, but we played out a star-crossed lovers story that had the Capitol so heartbroken that they convinced the president to allow us both to leave the arena alive. It was only then that I realized Peeta wasn't pretending.

He took the rejection in stride, disappearing into his room for the better part of the train ride back to District Twelve. He came out only when we finally arrived back home, to hold my hand and smile for the cameras sent to televise our return.

Then we moved into our adjacent houses in the Victors' Village, where our only other neighbor is our mentor Haymitch. Somehow, despite our proximity, I rarely saw him. I'm sure this was intentional on his part.

He resurfaced for our Victory Tour, where the winner, or winners in our case, is paraded around all the other Districts six months after the Games have ended to keep the memory fresh for everyone. He acted normal, more or less, holding my hand and kissing me on cue whenever necessary. In the train, between Districts, he sat in the common areas and conversed in his usual style. It was only when we were alone that things were tense.

The Tour brought all my old nightmares about the Games back, where I relived all the deaths in vivid detail. When in my own bed, in my house, I slept fitfully but I still slept. When I was on the Tour, I could never sleep for more than an hour without waking up screaming.

One night, after a particularly violent dream, there was a tentative knock on my door.

"Come in."

It was Peeta.

"I get them too," he said quietly, stepping in and closing the door softly behind him. "The nightmares."

"How do you make them stop?" I was still shaking.

Peeta crossed the room swiftly, but stopped at the edge of my bed. "May I?" he asked.

I nodded.

Peeta cautiously sat down near my feet. "My worst nightmares are about losing you," he said. "Usually I look out the window and see that your house is still standing and that helps."

My stomach twisted in pangs of guilt.

He continued. "But it's been a lot harder these last few days, since I can't see you."

"You can stay here if you want," I said, tapping the space next to me.

His brow furrowed. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"We did this before, during the Games," I answered, pulling the covers aside. "It's no big deal."

But it was a big deal. Having him there with me made the nightmares go away, for the first time in months. It was selfish, because I knew he still loved me, but I did it anyway.

And then we returned to District Twelve after the Tour, and things went back to the way they were before. This would be my first interaction with Peeta since the last night of the Victory Tour.

I reach the top of the steps, take a deep breath, and smile brightly for the cameras.

"Katniss, lovely to see you!"

It's Effie Trinket, District Twelve's Capitol sponsor. She's dressed in an outfit so completely covered in sequins that I wish I had sunglasses. At least the camera crew will have no trouble keeping track of her.

"Nice dress," I say, catching Peeta's eye behind her back as she hugs me.

"Thank you, dear," Effie says, beaming at me. "Now, if you would, take this seat right here by Peeta. I expected you two would arrive together, but I suppose the prep team held you up? Beauty takes time, not that Peeta isn't very handsome. But the boys never seem to need as much time to get ready." She laughs delicately while ushering me to a seat at the front of the stage, right next to Peeta.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask him, in lieu of saying hello.

"There's two tributes, so no more than two mentors," he said. "Haymitch wanted a break, so it looks like it's just the two of us up here. I think he said he'd meet us after the reaping to talk about strategy."

"Who do you think is going to volunteer?" I ask, scanning the assembled crowd.

"No idea," he says. "I haven't heard anything."

"You'd think the volunteers would make their intentions known and then train like Career tributes for three months," I say. "That's what I would have done if I'd known I was volunteering."

Peeta nods. "No doubt that's what people in other Districts are doing," he says. "Particularly One and Two."

We continue to talk as I look through the crowd, for a young woman with blazing determination in her eyes, for a young man whose goodbyes to his family are particularly tear-filled, all the while marveling at how quickly Peeta and I can go from avoiding each other at all costs to interacting casually onstage.

There's suddenly a shift in the crowd. I look up to see that Mayor Undersee has taken his place at the podium, introducing the reaping the way he does every year. I've heard the familiar speech enough times to be able to recite it in my sleep, so I ignore him and continue scanning the faces of District Twelve.

I only stop when a pair of familiar gray eyes latches onto mine. He stands out because he's not looking at the mayor, but at me. I said goodbye to him this morning, bracing for the month of separation, before my prep team arrived.

Gale Hawthorne.

When I'd returned from my Games, he wouldn't talk to me. At first I thought it was just poor timing on my part. He never stopped by my house, and whenever I went to visit him, his mother always said he'd just stepped out. On occasions when I'd see him walking in town, he'd act like he didn't hear me calling out his name.

I finally ended up going to his house one morning, carrying a loaf of bakery bread and some butcher meat, and knocking on the door loudly, already knowing what his mother would say.

"Katniss!" Hazelle said, smiling uneasily at me. "Gale just stepped out."

"I brought you food," I said, holding up my packages. "May I come in?"

"Sure," Hazelle said, stepping aside. "You really don't have to keep bringing us food," she added.

"I can afford it now, and I owe Gale for feeding Prim and Mother while I was away," I replied. "It's no trouble."

"Well, thank you," she said, putting the food away carefully. "How is your family doing?"

"Very well," I answered. "How's Gale?"

Hazelle turned around sharply, hearing the edge in my voice.

"Katniss?" she said, tentative.

"I know he's avoiding me," I said, holding my ground, "and I want to know why."

"It really isn't my place to say," she replied, voice shaky.

"I'd like to ask him myself, but I haven't been able to. You see my problem?"

Hazelle nodded, still not making eye contact.

"In that case, I think I'm going to sit here and wait for him to return," I said, settling myself onto a stool. "Unless you have a problem with that?"

Hazelle frowned. "It doesn't look like I have any choice in the matter," she said.

She left the kitchen soon after, and she must have instructed the other children to stay out too, because I didn't see anyone else until Gale thundered in a couple hours later.

"What's all this?" he shouted. "Why are you bothering my mother, Katniss?"

I stood up, not backing down from his anger. "I just want to talk to you."

"You want to talk?" he said, still shouting. "Fine, let's talk."

He grabbed my upper arm roughly and walked out of the house. I walk fast, but Gale is significantly taller than me, so I struggled to keep up.

He didn't notice, and continued to march until we reached his destination, a stretch of meadow near the spot we first met. Only then did he leave my arm. His expression softened as he saw me vigorously rub the spot he'd held with my other arm, trying to restore circulation.

"Sorry about that," he said.

I shrugged it off, deciding to get right to the point. "Why haven't you talked to me since I came back?"

He shifted his body so I could no longer see his face. "I didn't think you wanted to see me."

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

"You have Peeta now," he said, angling himself further away from me. "You have Peeta and you have money to buy food in town, so why do you need me around anyway?"

"Peeta? What does Peeta have to do with any of this?"

Gale turned around so quickly I had to take a step back. "Do you really not understand?" he asked. "How would you feel if I went into the Games and you watched every second of it just to make sure I hadn't died and instead got to see me kiss my district partner at every available opportunity? How would you react to that?"

My stomach twisted into knots from the images spun by Gale's words, and suddenly it all made sense, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Is this funny for you?" Gale asked, stepping closer to me and placing his hands on my shoulders. "Is this a joke?"

"No," I said, smiling despite myself. "No, nothing like that at all."

"Then what?" he asked, cupping my face with his hands now, his eyes piercing my expression.

"Peeta and I are not a couple," I said. "It was an act Haymitch came up with, to try to get the Capitol to let us both come home. We just have to keep it up in front of the cameras. But there's nothing between us."

"It was an act?"

"Yes." I lifted my arms to pull Gale closer to me. "And clearly it worked, since—"

And then Gale was kissing me and there was no need for words anymore.

"Katniss," someone hisses, poking me hard in my ribs. "Katniss, we need to stand now, they're playing the anthem."

I blink and I'm back in the present, sitting on the stage at the reaping, somewhat disoriented. "Sorry, I must have dozed off there for a moment, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"It's okay, no one noticed but me," Peeta whispers back. "Come on, stand!"

I get to my feet clumsily and almost lose my balance, but Peeta's hand shoots out and holds on to mine tightly.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he says, smiling at me.

I smile back, thinking that all the cameras in the square must be trained on us at this moment. The star-crossed lovers of District Twelve.


	2. Tributes

It's the moment everybody's been waiting for. Everyone in the square is fully alert, ready to see it all unfold.

"Volunteers?" Effie calls, stepping up to the podium. "Where are my volunteers?"

A fifteen-year old girl raises her hand bravely and the crowd parts for her. I get a better look at her and my heart sinks. She's one of the girls from the group home. Her parents died years ago and she has no one. She looks weak and underfed and doesn't have any chance of living through this, but I can tell from her hard expression that she knows this too.

She reaches the stage and Effie guides her to the microphone. "Say your name, dear, for all of Panem!"

"I'm Lucy," she says. "I don't have a last name."

"Let's have some applause for our new tribute here," Effie says brightly.

There's a smattering of applause across the square, but it stops quickly. All of District Twelve wants to know who the male tribute will be.

"And who will be our other volunteer?" Effie says. "Which young man is ready to claim glory for District Twelve?"

The square is silent. No one moves, no one says anything.

"No volunteers?" Effie calls out again. "I'm going to give it another minute, but if no one comes up, I'm going to have to start pulling slips from the bowl."

Still, no one moves.

Effie moves deliberately toward the bowl of names and thrusts her hand inside, ruffling the slips as she makes her selection.

Now the assembled crowd is uneasy. District Twelve is about to have a third tribute.

"Still no volunteers?" Effie asks once more before pulling out her slip. She returns to the podium quickly to read out the name.

"Rose Flint," Effie reads.

I can immediately identify the eighteen-year-old girl because of the way her rosy cheeks drain of color. I see why she was named Rose. She walks to the stage slowly, on wooden legs. Somehow, she makes her way to the spot on the stage next to Lucy.

"Do we have any volunteers now?" Effie asks, one hand reaching toward the bowl of names again.

"I volunteer!"

The speaker is an eighteen-year-old boy who has the look of the Seam about him. As everyone turns to him, I see Rose bury her face in her hands. Do they know each other?

His name is Ash Waller and as soon as I see him take his place next to Rose, I can tell that they do.

"Looks like Haymitch is coming with us to the Capitol after all," Peeta whispers.

While the tributes are saying their goodbyes to their families, Haymitch, Peeta, and I are gathered in another part of the Justice Building, discussing strategy.

"My reward for keeping you both alive was supposed to be getting a year off from this spectacle," Haymitch complains as he takes a swig of liquor.

"No drinking, Haymitch, those tributes are counting on you," Peeta says, grabbing the bottle from him.

"They don't stand a chance and you know it," Haymitch retaliates, snatching at the bottle again. Peeta is quicker.

Sullen, Haymitch folds his arms across his chest. "Fine," he says. "I'll stay sober until one of them dies, but then all bets are off."

"That's all we ask," Peeta says. "Now, do either of you have a preference on who to coach?" he asks.

"Convenient that there are three tributes and three of us, don't you think sweetheart?" Haymitch says, nudging me.

"Haymitch! Focus!" Peeta says.

It's almost cute how seriously Peeta's taking this whole thing. From what little interaction I had with them on stage, I already know our tributes are goners. Lucy has already accepted her defeat. Rose is angry at Ash, because she blames him for her getting reaped in the first place. And Ash's primary concern is getting Rose to forgive him, not winning the Games. Rose and Ash were dating prior to the reaping. It'll be interesting to see how their relationship handles the situation.

"I want Lucy," I say, speaking up for the first time.

"Interesting choice, sweetheart," Haymitch comments. "I guessed you would want the one who reminds you most of yourself. But I thought you'd identify with one half of this year's star-crossed lovers over the orphan."

"Haymitch, stop analyzing my choice and make your own," I say, suddenly irritated.

"I'll take the other girl," Haymitch says. "I think she'll die before either of the others."

"Haymitch!" This time, both Peeta and I speak up in outrage.

He shrugs, and Peeta sighs, giving up on this strategy session.

"I guess that means I've got Ash," he says.

"Great, well now that we've got that decided, I'll take that back," Haymitch says, plucking his liquor bottle out of Peeta's hands. "I'll see you two on the train." He saunters out of the room whistling cheerfully.

"How's Prim and your mom doing?" Peeta asks.

He's just being polite. I look at him, sitting across the table, looking at me earnestly. Why is he doing this?

"I've told you, Peeta, let's not pretend when there's no one else around," I say, not prepared for the flicker of hurt that appears for only a split second.

I wait for him to tell me off, to say that we slept in the same bed during the Victory Tour so how is this different, to shout, to react in some way. But he just runs his hand through his hair as he stands up. Again, I anticipate indignation, anger, pain.

Peeta's face remains an impassive mask, and without saying anything further, he walks out, just like Haymitch.

An hour later, we are on the platform, waving to District Twelve as we set off on our journey to the Capitol. The tributes have already been loaded onto the train. As I watch, Haymitch staggers across the platform and disappears into the closest carriage. It's my turn now.

I'm about to step forward, where the cameras can see me. On cue, like always, Peeta appears as if from nowhere and slips his hand into mine. We paint bright smiles on our faces as we wave to the cameras and squint into the lights. I look out at the crowd shouting their goodbyes, searching, until I see Gale with Prim propped on his shoulders. They get a special smile from me, and then Peeta and I are inside the train, and we let go of each other immediately.

The train is familiar, the same one that Peeta and I have traveled on before.

I'm shown to my room by an Avox, one of the Capitol's tongue-less servants. The space is different from the one I've occupied before, though I suppose that makes sense – my former room belongs to either Lucy or Rose now. I immediately hurry into the bathroom to wash all the makeup off my face before returning to the carriage with the TV, where I know the others will be assembled.

"Glad you finally made it, sweetheart," Haymitch slurs. "I was beginning to have my doubts."

He's got more liquor now. This one's dark and served in a tumbler with some kind of citrus peel shaved into it.

I ignore him and take the only other available seat, next to Peeta, and prepare to watch the recap of the day's reapings.

The other reapings are largely uneventful. Districts One through Seven have volunteers who have all clearly prepared for the Games. They're large and well-fed and volunteer promptly. District Eight's tributes are more hesitant. The District sponsor has to call several times before volunteers come forward, but no one is reaped from the bowl. Districts Nine and Ten need some more prodding, each with three tributes like District Twelve. District Eleven is interesting. The children seem to have made a pact to not volunteer. Name after name is called from the reaping bowl, but the rest of the children stand there silent and tall. I've lost count of how many tributes there are, but the small stage isn't able to hold them and Peacekeepers start ushering some of them off to the side to make room for more.

"How will they accommodate so many?" Ash asks, eyes wide.

"No idea," Haymitch says, chuckling to himself. "Whatever the Capitol planned for, it certainly wasn't this."

"How many are there?" I ask.

"Thirteen," Peeta says.

Names continue to be called and then suddenly the broadcast goes dark.

"Is it a faulty connection?" Ash asks, as Rose rolls her eyes.

"Do you really think a Capitol train would have bad wiring?" Rose asks. "Ash, seriously, you need to start using your brain if you're to have any hope of winning this thing."

"I wonder what they don't want us to see," Peeta says, resting his chin in his hands and tilting his head.

Before he has the opportunity to wonder for too long, the television flickers to life again.

"And we finally have our two volunteers!" the District Eleven sponsor proclaims, and the screen quickly shifts to an image of District Twelve before we can determine how many tributes District Eleven will be sending to the Capitol.

We watch the District Twelve reaping, which seems uneventful in comparison, and then Haymitch suggests everyone get some rest. As everyone moves towards the sleeping quarters, I see him inch toward the dining car, probably to refill his glass. I shrug as I return to my room. I don't like Rose that much anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter before The Battle of Songbirds and Snakes came out, and I chose the name Lucy for the first tribute before I knew about Lucy Gray. My character has no relation to Lucy Gray and the name is purely a coincidence.


End file.
